


Starstruck

by provencepuss



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provencepuss/pseuds/provencepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little light-hearted escapade when Starsky finds himself under cover as a TV cop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starstruck

STAR STRUCK

 

Christmas was well and truly over and the New Year had started with a wave of deaths in the city. Hypes were falling like flies and the crime labs were working overtime analyzing samples sent in by every pathologist in the city – not just LA County but Ventura and all the others. The latest death had hit the headlines. One of the hottest young stars in Hollywood’s firmament had been found dead in his bedroom. The tabloids went mad; screaming headlines made hay of the fact that this particular star had been portrayed as Mr. Clean himself. He had come to fame in a popular TV series – the kind of show that sent Starsky and Hutch into helpless hysterics. He played a well-meaning young DA who always managed to solve the worst crimes in exactly thirty nine and a half minutes.

  
Starsky and Hutch were in the squad room. Hutch was struggling to balance their expense chits. Starsky was perched on the back of his chair; his right elbow on his knee and his chin in his right hand. In his left hand he had a mug of coffee. He was immersed in the article that he was reading in one of the more salacious tabloids.  
“It says here…..”  
“Starsky, I don’t want to hear what it says; I’m trying to get our expense claim sorted out.”  
Starsky raised his head and stared at Hutch over the palm of his hand. His eyes twinkled and Hutch knew that behind the hand his partner was grinning. He tried to ignore the provocation and reached for the adding machine. He tapped and the machine whirred and the paper roll fell off its support and rolled onto the floor. Hutch swore and bent down to pick up the errant paper which rolled on under the desk behind him; he was forced to crawl under a chair and the desk to retrieve it.  
Starsky reached across the desk and took the piece of paper that Hutch had noted all the expenditure amounts on. Since most of the items were gas for the Torino Starsky had a special interest in making sure that the calculation was good. He ran an eye over the list; closed his eyes for a few seconds then he took a pencil and wrote a figure at the bottom of the column.   
Hutch came back to his chair and snapped his fingers for the paper; Starsky grinned and put it in his shirt pocket then went back to perusing the magazine.  
Hutch sighed and taking each chit in turn tapped the figures into the machine; he finally pressed the total button and the machine whirred hysterically. Hearing the machine signal that it was calculating, Starsky took the paper out of his pocket and smiled sweetly as he handed it to Hutch. The two totals were exactly the same. Hutch gave him the evil eye and Starsky mugged back. He leaned forward and said “You only had to ask, you know.” Hutch screwed up the strip of paper that he had torn from the machine and threw it at his partner – who ducked just as Dobey came out of his office and got the paper ball full in the face.  
Starsky raised an eyebrow and looked at Hutch over his hand; Hutch looked embarrassed and smiled faintly.  
“If you two don’t have anything better to do…..”  
Starsky lifted his chin from the palm of his hand and looked Hutch in the eye – there was still the hint of a smile playing on his mouth.  
“I’m not busy, Captain. Are you busy, Hutch?”  
Hutch took up the game.  
“Well no; I mean I’m sure that this can wait. Did you want to see us about something, Captain?”  
Before Dobey could get a word out; Starsky took the ball.  
“Hutch, you know if the Captain takes all the trouble to come out of his office and ask us if we’re busy…”  
Dobey had heard enough; he was not going to stand around while these two played their own version of verbal ping-pong at his expense. He barked out the order. “In my office; now!” He started back into the room.  
Starsky put one foot on the floor and slid his butt off the back of his chair and looked from the Captain’s wide back to Hutch. He gestured with his head towards the office.  
“Guess he wants to see us.”  
Hutch stood up and came around the desk. Starsky let him go first and sketched a mock bow as his partner went past. “Age before beauty!” Hutch gave him a sour look; he didn’t really want to be reminded that his birthday was coming up despite the fact that he was the younger of the two.  
“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘brains before brawn’?”  
Dobey was sitting behind his desk; he was sweating and scowling. The partners’ curious form of telepathy stopped them from continuing their banter.  
Hutch sat in one of the chairs and Starsky stopped by the fountain to take a cup of water then ambled over to his favorite perch between the coat-stand and the outer door. He drank the water in one gulp, screwed up the paper cup and threw it deftly into the waste-basket. He turned to the Captain and said “What’s the problem Cap’n?”  
Hutch sat back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him; he folded his hands on his lap and looked at the Captain.  
Dobey wiped his face and reached for a file. From where he was standing Starsky could see that it was full of press clippings about Billy Hollow’s death.  
“All that Mr. Clean stuff has a kind of hollow ring to it now, “Starsky quipped.  
Dobey gave him a look that told him to can it. He took the hint and went to serve himself at the fountain again. He took a gulp and refilled the cup before going back to his coat-rack.  
Hutch signaled his partner to cool it; Starsky raised an eyebrow and took another sip of water.  
“Will you please sit where I can see you both, Starsky.” Dobey was not in a good mood and Starsky decided that for once doing as the Captain asked might be a good move. He settled into the chair next to Hutch and swung his feet up onto the edge of the desk.  
“Starsky!”  
He put his feet on the floor and sipped again.

“Now, if you two are ready; maybe I can get on with this briefing.”  
Two heads nodded in unison.  
“As you both know there has been a wave of drug-related deaths in the past few weeks. The drug squad is pretty sure that there is a new drug on the market; worse – the dealers don’t know the safe quantities to sell.”  
“Sounds like their suppliers aren’t telling them.” Hutch said.  
“You just can’t trust the labels on stuff these days; you know I was in the supermarket the other day and...” His partner zipped back. Dobey silenced them both with a look worthy of a school principal faced with two unruly fourth graders.  
“Oops!” Starsky winked at Hutch.  
“Like I was saying; the customs department in Florida has picked up a rumor that something new is coming in from South America. It’s a cocaine derivative but it’s not for sniffing.”  
Starsky and Hutch looked at one another.  
“Apparently this new stuff - they’re calling it crack down south – is smoked and if you get it wrong you don’t get a second chance.”  
“And this new drug has made it out here.” Hutch said.  
Starsky reached for the file. “The last thing Billy was in; it was shot in Florida wasn’t it?”  
Dobey nodded. “Miami. He was there for three months.”  
“And he got into crack.” Starsky was leafing through the clippings. He pulled one out.  
“He got picked up for driving under influence when he was down there; seems the studio got him off with some story about drinking real booze in a scene. Ten’ll get you twenty it was crack.”  
He stood up; and started for the door. Hutch stood to follow him.  
“Come back here; I haven’t finished.”  
They stopped at the door and waited.  
“You’re going under cover.”  
“Oh no.” Said Starsky. “Not stunt men again please – he,” he nodded towards Hutch, “was unbearable enough the last time! And I still have the film to prove it!”  
Dobey ignored him.  
“You’re not going in as stunt men this time – you’re going in as technical advisors!”  
Two faces stared at him – if they’d been in a cartoon there’d have been question marks over their heads.  
“Technical advisors,” Starsky looked at Hutch, “does that mean that we are experts about something?”  
Dobey‘s patience was fraying fast. He named a top-rated series that was a hit although they were still shooting the first season.   
“It’s a cop show and you two are cops – at least that’s what you’re paid for!”  
Hutch grinned. Starsky scowled. “Captain have you ever watched that crap? The heroes get everything solved in a day; no long boring stakeouts with the marks appearing just as you’re working out where you can go and pee discreetly or trying to remember what food tastes like; then when it’s all over and they’ve had their fight and been up all night they’re still clean shaven and……”  
“Starsky I don’t give a damn about what you think about this show…I just want you and Hutch on the case. Now get out of here and go see Gordon Vennall.”  
Hutch whistled; Vennall was the executive producer on the cop show that Starsky was so scornful about.

  
*******************************************************

Starsk was still muttering about what a load of bullshit the show was when they arrived in front of the MGM building. His eyes lit up when he saw the cheesecake store across the road.   
He drove up to the gate and flashed his badge. The guard looked at it and said “Yea, which show are you guys in?”  
Starsky gave him what his partner called the Starsky Special; he smiled lop-sided but his eyes stayed expressionless; ‘smiling from the teeth out’ and Hutch wished he could do it too.  
“We’re in the real life show; buster; Metro Division. We’re here to see Mr. Vennall”  
He pronounced it ‘venal’ and Hutch swallowed a giggle.  
The guard told Starsky where Vennall’s office was and where to park then opened the barrier. Starsky gunned the engine with his foot still on the brake then released it to produce a dramatic screech of tires; he drove to the bungalow that served as Vennall’s office and parked in front of it.  
“The guy said to park in the visitors parking, Starsk.”  
“We’re not visitors; we’re technical advisors.”   
Hutch sighed.   
Starsky killed the engine and looked at his partner. “Well, are you coming or just breathing heavy with the excitement of being back in La-La Land.”

They walked to the door of the bungalow and Hutch knocked. A husky voice inside shouted “just coming” and told them to wait a minute; a woman giggled, and they exchanged glances.   
“I’ll bet he is!” Starsky muttered.  
They waited a minute and Starsky knocked again. The door opened and a young blonde came out; as they watched her walk away Starsky let out a low whistle. Hutch grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the doorway.  
“Wait up.” His partner said in a low voice. “Give the guy the time to adjust his clothing.”  
Hutch looked at him; “Starsk sometimes you have the mind of a dirty old man!”  
“You reckon? Well haven’t you ever heard of the casting couch – if you ask me, she was auditioning!”

They went into the bungalow and were greeted by Gordon Vennall in person. He was a man in his early fifties; years of booze and probably worse showed on his face. He wore his thinning dyed hair greased over from far down the left side of his head and as the two cops walked towards him he was still patting it back into place.  
Starsky held out his hand. “Mr. Vennall?” He still pronounced it ‘venal’ again, and got a sour stare from the producer by way of reply.  
“It’s pronounced ‘Veenorl’. So what can I do for you two guys – looking to break into the world of show-biz are you?”  
They both produced their badges.  
“No sir;” Hutch took it up before Starsky could give any more offence, “We’re your new technical advisors.”  
“Yea. OK. So let me explain to you boys what it is we need from you.”

He went on to explain that with Billy Hollow dead the series was finished. “So we decided to make a spin-off with the two cops as the heroes; and that means that we need advice about real procedures.  
Hutch shot Starsky a look that said “No!” before his partner could open his mouth to say what he thought of the story so far.  
“Well,” Hutch smiled at Vennall, “we’d be happy to give any advice we can.”  
Vennall offered to take them to visit the set and Starsky and Hutch set off with him for the big tour. Just as they were leaving the bungalow the radio started squawking inside the Torino.  
“Zebra three?”  
Vennall stared at the car. Starsky leaned in through his window and took the mike.  
“This is Zebra Three; how’ya doin’ Mildred?”  
“Fine Starsky. I have a message for you from Huggy; he says to drop by and see him later on.”  
“Thanks Mildred. Hey listen, we’re kinda busy right now; would you call Huggy and tell him we’ll be there around six-thirty?”  
“Anything for you, handsome!”

Vennall had watched this routine with amusement. “That thing is a police car?”  
Hutch swallowed hard. Starsky lifted his head from inside the car and gave Vennall the evil eye. “Whaddya mean ‘that thing’? I’ll have you know that this is a custom paint job on a highly tuned and efficient piece of engineering!”  
“Except when it breaks down.” Hutch said under his breath.

“But you aren’t seriously telling me that you do police work in a car as…well…uh…as unusual as that.”

Starsky sighed and said patiently. “What you don’t understand is that this car is the perfect cover because it is so unusual. Who expects to be arrested by someone driving a car like this? No-one; so when we go undercover………..”  
Hutch had heard it all before and it tickled him to see Vennall taking it all in. Starsky could talk the hind leg off a donkey if he put his mind to it and Hutch just went with the flow.

They walked over to a golf cart and the three of them squished together on the bench seat. Starsky winked at Hutch and muttered in his best Bogart voice “don’t get so close schweetheart”. Vennall drove towards one of the main lots.  
“Hey look at that;” Starsky nudged Hutch, “isn’t that the street where they shot that movie about the taxi driver and the hooker?” He turned to Vennall and grinned “I knew it wasn’t really in New York!”  
They went on through a few other familiar – and over-familiar - streets and town squares and arrived at a peaceful village somewhere in the mid-west. Hutch poked Starsky in the ribs. “Your favorite show: ‘The Little Schoolhouse’.” Starsky restrained himself from pushing his partner out of the golf cart.   
They drove on and finally arrived at a studio building. There was a red light on over the main door and Vennall gestured them to stay in the cart.  
“We can’t go in; they’re filming.”  
They waited for the light to go out and Vennall pushed open a small door set into a bigger sliding door; the two cops followed him in.

It was a standard multi-set studio. In each sector there was a layout – a squad-room, an office, an interview room, and a jail cell. All the sets were separated by half walls allowing the camera to follow action from one to another if necessary.  
“Welcome to our own cop station.” Vennall said. Starsky and Hutch looked around.  
“Just like home.” Starsky said with a mischievous grin. “But I bet they’ve made at least one mistake. He headed for a coffee machine that was obviously real and sniffed the pot. He raised his head and he had a very serious expression on his face. “Hey Hutch; come and look at this!” Hutch joined his partner and sniffed ostentatiously. He looked at Starsky with mock seriousness; only those standing close could see that both of them were trying not to smile. “You’re right, Starsk. Wow, how could they make a mistake as dumb as that?”  
By now the director was standing beside Vennall and both men were looking worried. The producer walked over to Hutch and asked what was so seriously wrong. Hutch gulped back a giggle and Starsky blurted out “Coffee’s too fresh!” before turning away to hide his laughter.

All the time that this had been going on the two actors who played the cops were rehearsing their lines. They were both dressed in neat sports jackets; tan slacks and wore shirts and ties. They looked up at Starsky – resplendent in a pair of jeans that would have got him a part in a porn movie, a T-shirt with a sunset and birds flying across his chest and his favorite leather flying jacket. One of them turned to look at Hutch who was sporting a plaid shirt, black leather jacket and tan cord pants. One of the actors turned to the director and said “I guess technical advice numero uno better be to the wardrobe department! I didn’t know cops dressed in thrift stores.”  
Starsky and Hutch looked one another up and down and shrugged. “On the whole,” Starsky said, “we are better dressed than the bad guys.”  
“But not always.” Hutch added with a grin.  
“I’ll bet they drive a dark colored Chrysler compact;” Starsky whispered to Hutch, and they both sniggered.

  
A ‘phone rang and the director went to take the call. The two real cops; the two actors and Vennall watched with interest as he listened to what was evidently bad news. He beckoned Vennall over. Starsky and Hutch knew instinctively to follow.

“Carla Mitchell. They just found her dead in her trailer.”

****************************************************************

Carla had been “special guest star” in the episode that was shooting.  
Vennall led the way. When they reached the trailer the two cops went in and signaled to the others to wait outside. Carla Mitchell was slumped half on the couch and half on the floor and the remains of a hand-rolled cigarette still burned between her fingers. Starsky took the latex gloves out of his pocket and Hutch held open a plastic sachet. As he took the roach from between the dead woman’s fingers Starsky sniffed it and grimaced. He pinched it just below the glowing tip and when he was sure that it was no longer burning, dropped it into the waiting bag.  
“Well it ain’t a Camel.” He said. “In fact it doesn’t smell like anything I’ve ever come across before – must be the new stuff.”  
He looked sadly at the corpse; Hutch too. “What a waste.” Hutch said.   
They started a methodical search of the trailer and Hutch suddenly said “Bingo!” His partner came over to his side; in a candy box, hidden between the papers that divide the layers of candy was a small envelope. Hutch picked it up carefully, holding it by the corner with the tips of his fingernails. Starsky was still wearing gloves so he opened it and looked inside. He licked the tip of his finger and was about to take a sample when he caught Hutch’s eye. “You’re right; this stuff might be lethal even as a taster.”  
They slipped the envelope into another evidence bag and left the trailer. As they were climbing down from the trailer door the coroner’s team arrived.  
“You guys got here fast!” It was Anderson one of the assistant pathologists that Starsky and Hutch preferred to work with.   
“We were already here,“ Hutch explained, “we’ve seen all we need to see; she’s all yours.”

Starsky was already talking to Vennall. They were in deep discussion and it was clear that whatever the detective was telling him was not to Vennall’s liking. As Hutch approached he heard the producer swear. “Do you understand how much it costs to suspend production for one hour; let alone the time it might take to solve this crime?”  
He looked angrily at Hutch who was now standing beside his partner. “You two had better do some real good technical advising because we are not closing down production!” Starsky raised his hand and was about to say something when Hutch caught him by the wrist. “Let it go. Come on; we need to get this stuff to the lab PDQ”

As Starsky drove through Culver City he glanced in the side mirror. “I think we have company.”  
Hutch looked in his mirror. “Tan Pontiac?”  
“Mmm”  
“So what are we going to do about it?” He looked at his partner who had transferred his hands from the bottom of the wheel to a tight fisted grip at the top. He ground his lips in concentration and gunned the engine for a second. “Hold on to your ….”  
“Kishkes” Hutch completed it in his mind, and these days he also knew what it meant.  
Starsky hit the parking brake and the Torino swung round in a full 180° turn; the rear end swinging dangerously close to a fire hydrant. Starsky roared along another couple of hundred yards and did it again and the red hood of the Torino was looming up in the rear-view of the tan Pontiac. The Pontiac’s driver accelerated and so did Starsky.  
The two cars sped through the afternoon traffic. At each intersection Starsky hit the horn and finally he yelled at Hutch “Why don’t you put up the light?” Hutch looked sheepish and said “I tried but you turned so fast I dropped it.” Starsky shot him a look and laughed. “Well at least you can’t drop this.” He hit the siren.  
They continued another two or three blocks and then the Pontiac took a sharp left turn. Starsky laughed and Hutch remembered that this was his partner’s old stamping ground; the neighborhood he’d lived in with his Uncle Al. He held on tight and waited for Starsky to make his next move. Up ahead the Pontiac was still speeding along and Starsky was keeping a steady distance from it.   
“That guy is nearly as good at this as I am!” he said  
He let the Pontiac go over the brow of a small hill, knowing that for a second the driver would lose sight of the Torino in his rear-view.  
Starsky swung the car hard into an alley to his right and Hutch hung onto the dashboard for dear life. The Torino roared up the alley and for a horrible moment Hutch thought that his partner had goofed and this was a dead end. As the wall seemed to get too close for comfort Starsky hung a left and was racing up another narrow street that ran parallel to the road he’d left behind. Hutch glanced at the speedo and wished he hadn’t. Starsky had the Torino doing 60mph along a road where it would be difficult for two cars to pass at 20mph. Starsky shot him a grin. “Trust me. This is where I learned to drive.”  
They careened up the road and Hutch braced himself for another high-speed left turn.  
Starsky slammed on the brakes and the Torino skewed to a halt across the street where the Pontiac was now coming towards them. The guy driving the Pontiac slowed to a near halt and Hutch was just quick enough to see an arm come out of the passenger window holding a gun. “Starsk!”  
Starsky hit the accelerator and spun the car round to a halt, nose inches from the driver’s door. Hutch had already pulled his gun and he aimed it at the passenger.  
“Try it!”  
Starsky pulled his pistol put of his holster and smiled over the barrel at the driver.  
“Out you get sweetheart,” he said.  
The driver eased his door open as far as it was possible with the big chrome front end of the Torino pushed up within six inches of it. He squeezed out of the car and put his hands above his head.  
Hutch was out of the car and round to the passenger side of the Pontiac – his Magnum still aimed at the other guy’s head. He reached into the car and took the gun.  
“Out!” The passenger did as he was told.  
Starsky and Hutch shoved their prisoners against the side of the Pontiac and patted them down. Starsky fished out a “ladies’ special” from his captive’s sock. “Naughty, naughty! Does your mommy know that you have toys like this?” He put the tiny pistol in his pocket.   
Hutch was cuffing his captive and Starsky did the same. As they guided their prisoners to the Torino’s uncomfortable backseat Starsky started to recite “Miranda”.

On the way back to Metro Headquarters Starsky pulled a couple of sharp turns and the passengers in the back swore.  
“Hey Starsk; don’t forget the constitution forbids ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ and the back of this car is no merry go round ride.”  
Starsky laughed; he grinned at Hutch. “Aw Hutch, as if I‘d do a thing like that!”

They arrived at Metro and Starsky drove round back to the garage. He and Hutch pushed their prisoners up to the third floor and into an interview room. Starsky beckoned Hutch over to the door.  
“You think you can handle them alone, Blondie?”  
Hutch nodded. “Sure, but don’t you want a bit of the action?” Starsk looked slightly evasive and said “Look I told Huggy we’d be there around six-thirty. I have an errand then I’ll come and pick you up. See you later.” He was gone before Hutch could ask him where he was going. Not that Starsky would have told him!

  
While Hutch settled down to a long chat with the two guys from the Pontiac Starsky was speeding back to Culver City. He reached his goal and glanced at his watch – plenty of time. He parked the car and went into the most famous cheesecake store in LA. Still with its historic shop-front opposite the MGM gate this place had been serving cheesecake to stars, the fans and ordinary folk for decades. Starsky stopped and gazed at the window. Well OK it wasn’t quite like the cheesecake store of his childhood back east but the chocolate marbled looked pretty good to him. He went in and took time with the lady behind the counter setting up a very special order. He parted with ten bucks without a whimper and went back to the Torino with a big grin on his face – and a small smear of chocolate cheesecake on his chin!  
He was back at the station house in time to find Hutch in the squad room typing up the arrest report.  
“They tell you anything interesting?” he asked as he sat on his chair opposite his partner. Hutch looked at him curiously. “What’s that on your chin?” Starsky wiped his hand across his chin; looked slightly embarrassed and licked his finger. “Chocolate.”  
“You’ll get fat!”  
“Yeah; but won’t I have fun doing it! Come on; Huggy’s waiting for us.”  
Hutch didn’t bother to ask where the chocolate had come from.

  
****************************************************

Huggy was serving three people at once; he winked at Starsky as the two cops sat on bar stools in front of him. “I got the call. Delivery’s all arranged.”  
Hutch looked from his partner to Huggy and said sternly “I hope you two aren’t into something I might have to arrest you for.” Starsky grinned and Huggy seemed very interested in a booze stain on the counter. Starsky started to unfold then carefully re-fold a paper napkin. “How about a little service here bar-keep!” He affected a cowboy drawl.  
“What do my friendly neighborhood cops want to drink this fine evening?”  
Beer for Hutch and ice-tea for Starsky; “I’m driving, remember.”

Huggy served them and leaned close across the bar. “I hear that MGM have a little casting problem.”  
“You heard right.” Hutch said in a low voice. “Two dead stars; and two stunt men in the slammer.”  
Starsky looked at him. “Those guys are stunt men?” Hutch nodded. “So why were they following us? They need a little technical advice?” Hutch shook his head. “No buddy, I guess they know all they need to know; the guns were real enough.”  
Hutch ran the story by Huggy and Starsky; the two stunt men had been told to stop the cops from “getting to close to Harvey Klinger.”  
“Harvey Klinger!” Starsky and Huggy were imperfect unison; but Huggy went on “And who in the hell is Harvey Klinger when he’s at home.”  
Starsky dead-panned him: “Same as when he’s out; dope supplier to the stars.” He looked at Hutch. “That means he knows cops are on to him – but does he know which cops are after him?”  
Hutch told him all the two stunt men had told him – Klinger only knew that the heat was onto him.  
“Looks like one of us should go even further under cover, don’t it?” Starsky was serious.  
”Yea but who?”  
“Game of eight ball to find out!”

Hutch knew in advance that he wasn’t going to like this but he agreed. They selected cues and Huggy tossed for them to see who would break. Starsky broke and Hutch didn’t get one shot. His partner smiled up at him from above the cue as he put the eight ball in the far right pocket. “I’ll go in tomorrow. We’d better get the Captain to help us set it up!” He headed for the ‘phone and Hutch watched his partner have an animated conversation, hang up and dial again; he spoke rapidly into the ‘phone and it was plain to see that he was exercising his talent for talking people into doing what he wanted them to do. Starsky came back to the pool table with a big grin on his face. “He doesn’t like it…but he’ll do it. We have a meeting in his office in an hour.” He picked up his cue; “wanna try and get your revenge?”  
This time Hutch managed to get in a couple of shots but it was definitely Starsky’s day at the table.

An hour later the two of them were in Dobey’s office explaining the plan to Vennall.  
“We do not think that Klinger knows which cops are on the case.” Hutch re-assured him. “And we have a judge who will refuse bail on those two clowns for at least forty-eight hours. So my partner will be quite safe.”  
Vennall looked at Starsky and appraised the dark-haired cop’s good looks. “Yea well the ‘ethnic’ look is in now what with these new guys like De Niro and Pacino; if you can be convincing enough kid we might make a star of you yet.”  
Starsky couldn’t resist it. “With a name like mine I’m half way to heavenly fame already!”  
Hutch looked sick and Dobey shook his head in despair.

Starsky and Vennall left together and Dobey and Hutch discussed the back up that would be needed to keep in touch with the undercover agent. Hutch was to continue as a technical advisor to the cop series.

Out in the hallway Starsky and Vennall were deep in conversation as they walked along and Starsky didn’t notice Doug Randall, one of the city’s low-life attorneys, coming out of the booking room. If he had he might have thought twice about his new adventure.

Vennall looked at the Torino and shook his head; he still couldn’t figure it out. Starsky said he’d join the producer at the studio and the two cars drove off into the evening smog.

The undercover plot was simple enough; Starsky was going to be a bit actor and try to worm his way into the drug scene at the studios. Vennall gave the cop a few hints and then said “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this – I mean if you go undercover regularly enough you know how to act!” Starsky gave this a moment’s reflection. “I guess I never saw it that way. Hey that makes it a whole lot easier!”  
Vennall took him down to the back-lot where the latest episode of the show was being shot. He introduced him to the director and the writer and the executive producer – the three people who ran the show. “This is Dave and he’s just blown in from NYC where he’s been doing some interesting stuff off-Broadway – isn’t that right Dave?”  
Starsky thought about the only time he’d done something interesting off Broadway and it hadn’t been acting! He let the beat go and said “Oh yeah. I mean it’s far out the stuff we’ve been doing; last thing I did was Shakespeare on trampolines.”  
Vennall gave him a look that stopped even Starsky in his tracks. He picked it up. “Dave’s been in a lot of experimental stuff; but he’s good and he’s ready to go so I’d like you to find a way of writing him in for a few scenes.”  
The exec-producer and the writer demurred – they knew that what Vennall wanted was what had to go down. The director was only on his second or third gig but he was still full of his own importance, not aware that what he wanted only counted if it suited the production company. He started to object but Vennall stopped him. “I’m sure that with all the re-writing after Carla’s death you can fit this boy in.”

  
Later Starsky was sitting in a trailer shared with the other bit-part actors in the episode and he was reading his scene. He scanned his eyes down the page a couple of times and then closed them. One of the other actors watched him. “Hey man, looks like you got into the character already.”  
Starsky looked up at him. “Huh?”  
“Well I mean, like man you must have done some heavy work at the Studio or someplace back in New York. You study method?”  
The only “method” Starsky had ever studied in New York was how to survive. He smiled at the young actor and said quietly; “you know, for me, it’s all about life’s experience. You take the part and you say ‘where in my life did I have an experience that relates to this scene’ and I guess I have enough in the mental files to work with.” He handed the other man the pages he was reading and said “want to just run through the lines with me?” The young actor fed Starsky his cues and every line came out like it should. “Great,” Starsky thought, “hope I can do it like this when I’m out there!”  
One of the ADs came in: “Dave and Andy you’re up in five minutes.” A make-up artist followed and Starsky submitted to having his face covered with make-up. When she’d finished with his face she said “and now for the wound; lift up your T-shirt.”  
Starsky pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans and they all got a glimpse of the holster under his jacket. He looked embarrassed and said “OK, so I asked wardrobe to kit me out in advance so I can get the feel of the thing.” They believed him and the make-up girl started to put color on a make-up brush. She cast an appreciative eye over his hairy muscular torso and went to work. The “wound” was about two inches below his rib-cage and it tickled! Starsky collapsed into helpless giggles and the make-up artist had her work cut out applying the rest of the “wound”. When she’d finished she whispered in his ear “I’d be happy to come and clean that off later.” Starsky decided that he just might let her do so.

He followed Andy on to the set. The director was still fussing about the camera positions and the director of photography was arguing with him. He turned to Starsky and Andy. “Ok, you...yes you Doug…” “Dave” Starsky muttered. “Yea, yea, Dave; ok I want you to be over there and when you see Andy you pull your gun and you aim at him but he’s too quick for you and you go down like this.” The director demonstrated how he wanted Starsky to fall.  
“No no no.” Hutch’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness behind the lights that were beginning to blind Starsky.  
“A cop wouldn’t just shoot without a warning!”  
The director turned round. “Thank you, officer. So Dave before you shoot you shout something like “police” OK? That Ok with you officer?”

The actors and crew got into position. The AD marked the scene and the director called action. Starsky stood on position and Andy pulled out his gun; Starsky’s gun was out first. Starsky yelled ‘police’ but before he could do anything else a shot rang out. Andy dropped to the ground and everyone on set could see the blood seeping into the fabric of his T-shirt. In the confusion no-one noticed Starsky and Hutch run off in the direction the shot had come from.  
They were round the back of the ‘building’ that Starsky was supposed to have been leaving in the scene. From the front it looked like any kind of walk-up in a low income neighborhood; round back it was a complicated structure of scaffolding and platforms. Hutch turned to his partner. “You should go back; don’t want them to think you know how cops work!” Starsky nodded and slipped back to the set. If anyone asked he’d say he thought he’d seen someone and he went after the cop to tell him. No-one asked.  
They were all standing around Andy’s lifeless body. The director let out an obscenity that Starsky had always believed he’d invented. Someone had called Vennall and he was in deep discussion with the exec producer and the writer. There was yet another re-write on the cards and they were all looking at Starsky with interest.

Vennall beckoned him over. “Kid; it looks like you might get your big break.”

 

*****************************************

  
Hutch was standing on the back-lot looking around for a clue as to where the killer could have gone. He ran in one direction and then another but there was no-one to be seen. Back-lots are like a series of ghost-towns; and this one felt real spooky right now.  
He made his way back to the shooting set and the thought crossed his mind that the word was double edged under the circumstances. The actors and crew were still gathered in little groups and looking shocked. The coroner’s team had been called and Hutch knew that he was going to have to deal with the situation without overt help from Starsky. He looked around for his partner and saw that he was in deep conversation with Vennall. Hutch decided to start with the obvious possible witnesses – the people whose job it was to watch the set. He went over to the camera man; and flashed his badge.  
“Oh yea, you’re the technical advisor, right.”  
“No, right now I’m the investigating officer to a murder. What did you see?”  
“All I saw is in here.” The man tapped the two black reel cases on top of the camera. “And that means you have to wait for the print. I’ll get it over to the lab right now and I’ll let you know when we can view it.”  
Hutch thanked him. The camera man started to dismantle the film case and he turned to Hutch; “you don’t know much about this business do you? I mean I’m not the first person to ask – she is.” He pointed to woman standing at the side of the director’s chair. She carried a clip-board; she was about fifty five and she wore her hair in an efficient coil in the back of her head; she had big square red-rimmed glasses on the end of her nose. Hutch looked at the camera man for an introduction or an explanation.  
“She’s in charge of continuity; it’s her job to watch everything and everyone on the set. If anyone might have seen who did it…”  
Hutch was already on his way over to the woman’s side. As he crossed the set he noticed that Starsky and Vennall were leaving; he reckoned his partner knew how to look after himself.

Vennall was serious. He was offering Starsky a contract – not just a cover, but the chance to be an actor. Starsky looked at him. “I dunno. I mean I like my job now and anyway….”  
“And anyway, what? You like getting paid badly? You like being shot at? Listen kid you could make as much in a week as it takes you a year to earn – and you know how to do it. I’m asking you to star in a cop show – you don’t even have to adapt.”  
Starsky shook his head. “Maybe you won’t believe this but the money doesn’t matter. I earn enough to do what I want to do. I can run the car I want to; I’m happy with the house I have; so why should I want more. Plus there’s a reason I became a cop and I can’t forget it.”

“Ok. I won’t push you. But for your cover at least pretend to accept the contract. Let’s face it you couldn’t be in a better position to find out what’s going on.”

Starsky nodded. “Just don’t expect me to be Bogart ’cos my mom always says I’m more the Paul Muni type, ok!”

Vennall led him back to the set and made an announcement that nearly knocked Hutch of his feet.  
“People, I want you to meet the new star of what’s left of this series. David here has just accepted a contract to play the lead role in what is going to be the last two episodes of our little adventure”  
Hutch was at Starsky’s side before anyone else could move. “Tell me I didn’t hear that.” He muttered in his partner’s ear. Starsky grabbed him by the arm and led him to one side. “It’s Ok. It’s only for two episodes then I get killed off too.”  
“I just hope they fire a blank buddy.”  
“Me too; Hutch. Me too.”

Vennall was back and leading Starsky to what had been Billy’s trailer. “Make yourself at home kid; this is your own little place all the time you’re on call. If you want anything special let me know.”  
Starsky cast an eye around and then said “A direct ‘phone to the precinct would be good idea”.  
“You got it!” Vennall left to pull whatever string it was he pulled to get what he wanted.

Hutch flopped onto a chair while Starsky wandered around the trailer. It was a medium-sized RV complete with bed and shower. He grinned at his partner and said “Hey, a guy could get to like this!” He came back to the main area and opened a fridge. It was stacked with beers and ice and there was a bottle of vodka too. He flipped a beer to Hutch and sat down.  
“So what have you got?”  
Hutch pulled the ring on the can and took a slug. “Nothing really. Everyone was watching the set and the shot came from behind the camera judging by the angle. The continuity girl says she thinks she saw someone standing near the sound guy but she can’t be sure. The camera man is going to call me when the print is ready but I can’t see where that’s going to help.”  
“Depends on the camera angle.”  
Hutch looked at him. “You’re an expert already?”  
“No, think about it. When you take a photo say of someone standing in front of a window and you want the window in the picture but not your own reflection; you set the angle, right? So there was a big window with real glass behind me when the shot came.”  
“The kid’s a genius!”  
“Aw shucks!”  
Hutch pretended to aim his beer can at Starsky’s curly head.  
“Get out of here and go hassle a witness or something; like they do in the cop shows when they don’t have any ideas!”  
Hutch left him in the trailer. Starsky sipped his beer thoughtfully. Things had taken a very interesting turn. Not the idea that he might be able to act; although he enjoyed taking part in the PD plays he had seen enough on this set to know that if hanging around on a stake-out sent him nuts the hanging around on a set would drive him right over the edge! No, what he found interesting was that someone had shot a bit part player. He decided to find out if Andy had any friends at the studio.

He was still sipping his beer when someone knocked on the trailer door.  
“It’s open!” He shouted.  
The door opened and a pert little blonde with big green eyes came in. Starsky vaguely recognized her as one of the people in the ‘crowd’ on the street when he was supposed to have been shot by Andy. She sat down on the floor in front of him and smiled. “I was wondering if there was anything you need that I can give you.” She said. Her eyes were fixed Starsky’s jeans in a way that told him exactly what she had in mind. He crossed his legs. He made a mental note to wear a newer pair of jeans tomorrow.  
“Well that’s not my scene and I have a steady girl right now.”  
She shrugged and sat on a chair. “Well you know it’s kind of boring between takes so maybe you could do with some other kind of entertainment.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a joint. Starsky swallowed and grinned but before he could answer Hutch was back; and the joint was back in the bag fast!  
Hutch pretended that he’d come to get “Dave’s” statement and asked the girl to leave.  
He winked at his partner. “Perks of the job, huh?”  
“Your timing stinks. She was about to offer me a little light-headed entertainment; if you know what I mean.”  
“Well Starsk, I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t smoke.”  
Starsky smiled.  _If he knew!_

*************************************************

Doug Randall was furious. He had tried everything he could think of but the judge wasn’t going to give in. The two stunt men would not be released for at least forty-eight hours; “and that Mr. Randall, is my final word on the subject. I’ll see you in court in two days time and you can earn your fee.”

Randall went straight to the nearest payphone. He checked that no-one was within hearing range and put in his dime. He dialed and waited impatiently for three rings before the ‘phone at the other end was picked up.  
“I can’t get them out and I have been refused visiting rights until tomorrow….they invoked some clause about protected information…I don’t know. I’ll do my best, but the cops have got this one sewn up tight.”  
He hung up and left the precinct. He was still trying to work out who the guy he’d seen with Starsky was – he looked familiar but Randall had a heavy enough habit to have bust his memory.  
He was still thinking about it when he got into his car. He saw the guy driving away and caught the license plate “GV 4 GV”. He banged the wheel with his fists and drove off.

Harvey Klinger lived in the kind of house that small time drug dealers dream of. High above Griffiths Park it had a panorama of LA’s lights twinkling through the smog. His pool had a wide teak deck and was furnished with loungers and pretty women. Klinger was on a lounger; a bimbo on his lap, a cigar in his mouth and a ‘phone clamped to his ear. When Randall walked onto the deck he pushed the girl away, put down the ‘phone and drew on the cigar.  
“I told you not to come here.”  
“This is important Mr. Klinger. They’ve put a cop into the studio and I think I know who he is. His name is Hutchinson; and he’s good at his job.”  
Klinger snapped his fingers and two human gorillas appeared at his side. “A cop, his name is Hutchinson. Find out where he lives and stop him doing it for much longer.”  
He turned to Randall. “Thanks for the information Randall. Now get the hell out of here and prepare a good case to get the other two out of jail.”

Klinger’s muscle men went off to find out what they could about Hutchinson. One of them knew that the cop and the guy who owned the Pits were friendly so they headed for the bar.  
Huggy didn’t know what hit him. He’d been playing pinball when someone pushed his head down hard and banged his nose on the machine. He felt something pop and the blood running down his top lip. Whoever had pushed him was now swinging him around and pushing him into the arms of a second man mountain. The two of them played catch for a while; using Huggy as the ball. When they had finished Huggy was ready to tell anybody anything – even the truth. One of the toughs shoved Huggy against the bar and took a bottle from the counter; he smashed the bottle and held the jagged glass an inch from Huggy’s half-closed eye.  
“Hutchinson. Where does he live?”  
Huggy was to groggy to think straight otherwise he’d have given Hutch’s old address or even Starsky’s; but his brain was too fuddled to think that quickly.  
“Venice Place, apartment on the left.”  
The other guy gave Huggy an unfriendly punch in the solar plexus and they left him doubled over fighting to breath and trying not to choke on his blood.

Huggy staggered to the ‘phone and dialed. “Captain. I need to reach Hutch, it’s urgent.”  
He hung up and ran cold water over his face. “I also need a doctor; but not until I’ve warned Hutch.”

Dobey told dispatch to reach Hutch but the reply came back that he was off air. Dobey picked up the ‘phone. He let it ring five or six times and then put it down. “Where in the hell is he?” he muttered and he gave his attention to the file in front of him.

Hutch had been to see a couple of snitches but nobody could tell him anything he didn’t know already. He decided to go home and get some rest.

He pulled up outside Venice Place and noticed the black pick-up parked across the road. Something he could never understand was why people who never left the city insisted on driving cars that were more suited to a farm in Montana. He shrugged and went up the stairs to his door. He was singing under his breath as he opened the door.  
He stopped singing when he saw the guy on the couch pointing a gun at him. He walked in and raised his hands to just above elbow level.  
“Get ‘em higher than that cop!” The man behind the gun growled. Hutch did as he was told and the second hulk came up behind him and twisted his right up behind his back; with his other hand the hulk took the Magnum out of the holster and threw it to his partner.

The odds were definitely not in Hutch’s favor but he decided to try anyway. He shoved his free elbow back into the guy’s gut and heard a satisfying gasp as his arm was released. He stepped forward and that was as far as he got. The other gorilla was on him before he could blink. He felt a fist make contact with his eye and staggered back; the second blow got him in the gut and he was down and staring at a big boot that was coming straight for his face. He rolled his head to one side just in time. The toe of the boot hit the tough part of the skull just below and back of the ear. Hutch was stunned but he knew that he wasn’t badly hurt. He instinctively rolled into a fetus position to protect himself as best he could but the next kick got him square in the kidneys. He grunted and tried to let it ride. He could tell that these guys meant business and he was concentrating hard on staying alive. A succession of kicks nearly finished him; the force of them made it impossible for him to stay curled up and as he flopped over onto his back he took another one straight in the groin. The second man had joined in and he was enjoying himself. “Uh…uh…” Hutch grunted each time a toe came into contact with the unprotected and vulnerable parts of his body. The final kick forced all the breath out of him in a scream of pain; he felt his eyes filling with involuntary tears and all his power to breathe seemed to escape him. He remembered what the coach at high school had told him the first time he took a blow to the balls. “Just keep breathing, Hutchinson, take it slowly and you’ll be ok.” He struggled to go on breathing and then rolled forward to allow the vomit to spill out of his mouth and avoid choking on it. "That would be too much,” he thought as his brain filled with a swirling mist that signaled the loss of consciousness, “drown in my own puke!”

His assailants seemed have decided that they had done their job and as he passed out he heard one of them laugh. “Hey, the boss said ‘out of the way for good’.”  
The other guy said nothing but Hutch heard the click of a trigger cocking into position.  
“Oh God, please not yet!” He prayed; and as he heard the shot and felt the pain burn through his shoulder; he finally lost the battle and passed out.”

  
Dobey took the call at home. Edith had answered the ‘phone because her husband was busy trying to convince Rosie that little girls of six should go to bed before nine thirty. He was having about as much success as he would have had telling Starsky or Hutch to go to bed unaccompanied at that hour. He came down stairs and saw that his wife was worried. She handed him the receiver; “it’s Huggy,” she said in a low voice, “he can’t reach Hutch.”  
Dobey took the receiver. “Huggy? What’s going on?”  
“I don’t know Captain but I think the boys might be in more trouble than they bargained for. I had a visit from Klinger’s goons; they beat me up and found out where Hutch lives. I’ve been calling Hutch’s place for the last half hour and there’s no reply.”  
Dobey thought for a moment. “Huggy, I’m going to put out a call for Hutch; he might be in his car.”  
“I already asked Mildred, Captain. I didn’t want to disturb you at home unless I had to. She says Hutch signed out over an hour ago and said he was going home.”  
“I’ll meet you there.” Dobey pressed the buttons to cut the line and as soon as the dial tone returned he called the station. “This is Dobey. I want a car and an ambulance sent to Hutch’s place right now. I’m on my way over there.”  
He grabbed his hat and holster and called up to Edith who had gone to get Rosie to bed whether the little girl wanted to go or not. “I’m going over to Hutch’s place. If Starsky calls; tell him to meet me there.”  
Dobey hit the siren as he sped to Venice Place. Huggy’s vintage Chevrolet was already parked outside and so were a black and white and an ambulance. The fat Captain had to stand to one side at the bottom of the stairs to allow the paramedics to take the stretcher to the ambulance. Hutch had an oxygen mask over his face and a bottle was connected to a tube going into his arm. Dobey looked at the paramedic walking alongside the stretcher.  
“He’ll live. He’s been badly beaten up and he has a bullet wound in the shoulder but it’s really only a graze and he won’t need a cast or anything like that.”  
Huggy was coming down the stairs; when Dobey saw the damage on his face he told him to get in the ambulance too. “No way; Captain! I’ve got a bar to run! And anyway I think I might know a few dudes who can give us a lead on all this. You better find out how the Star is getting on.”

Dobey followed the ambulance to the hospital and Huggy went back to The Pits.

  
***********************************************************

Starsky was having trouble working out how anyone could be thrilled to do this job. He spent more time sitting around in his trailer than he did on set; and when he was on set it seemed like they took twenty minutes to get everything ready then when he said three or four words it was “That’s great. OK people let’s get ready for the next coverage!” and Starsky was back in his trailer reading old issues of Variety.

He was sitting in the trailer now, sipping a beer and wondering why he hadn’t had a call from Hutch all day. The thought crossed his mind that his partner was jealous; after all the last time they’d had anything to do with the Hollywood industry Hutch thought he was getting his big break. Starsky still had the scene that was cut stashed in a drawer at home. He had plans for it!

The door opened about two inches and Starsky’s hand went instinctively to the holster that he could wear legitimately seeing as how he was playing a cop. It was the blonde with green eyes.  
“I figured we have about an hour to kill;” she said, “and I don’t see that cop around so maybe we could have a little fun.”  
She reached into her bag and took out a joint. She lit it and took a long toke. Starsky watched over the rim of the beer can; his face gave nothing away. She reached over and offered him the joint and he took it. He sniffed the smoke appreciatively and was about to put the joint to his lips when the ‘phone rang. It was the special line.  
“Excuse me,” he smiled handing back the joint, “but this is a private call.” The blonde sighed and left the trailer.

“Starsky?” It was Huggy.  
“How come you’re calling me on this line?” He listened to what Huggy was telling him.  
“I’ll be right there.”  
He jumped down out of the trailer and went over to the executive director. “You’re gonna have to find a reason why I had to leave,’ he said, “Hutch is in the hospital and I need to know what’s going on.” The executive producer sighed; “OK but try not to be away too long – we don’t want them to think you’re getting difficult after only one day in the lead!”

Starsky sprinted to the Torino and as soon as he was out of the gate and he’d checked that he wasn’t being followed he hit the siren. He reached for the Mars light and remembered that it had gone AWOL; he made a mental note to get another one.

He parked outside the Emergency entrance of Memorial and ran into the building. Dobey was sitting on the familiar couch outside the emergency room.  
“He’s going to be alright. He has a lot of bruising and for a while the doctor thought that there was internal bleeding, but they checked him out and it’s ok. He took a bullet in the shoulder but it’s just a flesh wound.”  
“Can I see him?”  
“Doctor says that no-one can see him until tomorrow – they’ve put him out for the night.”  
Starsky threw a hand up in frustration. “I just want to be sure he’s ok!”  
Dobey put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “You took a risk in coming here Dave but I know how much you and Hutch feel about one another.”  
The two of them walked out of the building and stopped by the Torino. “I don’t think we should be seen together, Starsky. Not here, and not a headquarters. Come to my house; but call first.”  
Starsky nodded and looked at his watch. He’d been away from the studio for about forty-five minutes; he could get back without disrupting things after all. He sketched a salute at the Captain and hopped into the Torino. He left with a screech of tires. Dobey shook his head and smiled to himself.

When Starsky got back to the studio the AD grinned at him and said “Go back to your trailer; someone broke a light and everything’s running late again.”  
He slumped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Someone was onto Hutch and maybe they were onto him too. He decided that he’d better be even more careful about the company he kept. He thought about everything he’d seen and heard since he’d been pretending to be an actor. The green-eyed blonde had to be a link to something; he was sure of that – she always seemed to be in the right place with her joint. He decided to play “movie star” and get a bit of the action. He got off the bed and went in search of little Miss Bright Eyes.

She was standing with a couple of other extras and a guy that Starsky thought he recognized. He stopped and ran through the photo album in his brain. The face was very familiar…not a movie star or a TV star but…it came to him: the guy was one of the LA Rams’ best hopefuls and Starsky had seen him when he’d gone to watch a public tryout a couple of weeks back. The question was “what was he doing here?” Starsky got his answer when he saw a flash of green paper and a small plastic sachet changing hands. The would-be football star was dealing. Starsky saw his opportunity. He ambled over to the group.  
“Hey looks like I picked a good moment.” He grinned. “I was just wondering what a guy had to do around here to get a bit of action.” He turned to the blonde; “I guess you’d have told me if I’d had time to ask.”  
She smiled up at him. “What do you need? Dale here has everything you can think of and even some stuff you didn’t dream about.”  
“Well I thought a little high-grade Sinsemilla; I usually grow my own but I haven’t had time since I hit the West Coast.” He winked “If you know what I mean.”  
Dale looked at him for a moment. “Sure that’s all you want? I mean I have stronger stuff here.”  
Starsky looked at him patiently. “You might not believe this but I’m not interested in anything stronger. You got some good grass or not?”  
“Twenty five for an ounce.”  
Starsky flipped out two bills. “Gimme two ounces; I plan to have a party.”  
Dale fished in his pocket and handed Starsky a couple of packets; he sniffed them and grinned: “nice, very nice, almost as good as the last crop I grew back in the Village.”

He slipped the packets into his jacket pocket and was heading for his trailer when the AD called him to the set. “We’re ready for your coverage now Dave.”  
Starsky went and stood where he was told and waited for everything to be set up around him. He had two cameras pointing at him and the lights were making him sweat. The make-up assistant came and dabbed his face with a Kleenex and brushed on a little powder “to stop your nose from shining”. Starsky swallowed a laugh – that sounded just like something his mom would say.  
The director fussed around a while longer and then turned to his new leading actor.  
“Now Dave; you’re in the apartment and you know that there is someone in the bathroom. You’re worried but not scared – I mean cops don’t get scared, do they?”  
 _Fat lot he knows!_  
“So when I call action you go forward and you hold the gun out in front of you.” He went back to his position beside the camera opposite Starsky and the AD called for silence then marked the scene and the director called for action. Starsky drew his gun and walked across the room. He held the pistol lightly in one hand, fingers splayed along the butt. The director shouted “Cut!”  
“David, a cop holds his gun out in front of him. Now come on kid; do it like I asked you.”  
 _That’s what he thinks_  
Starsky went back to the mark and waited for the call. He stepped forward, this time he held the gun in front of him, but low; left hand cupped in the right hand.  
“Cut!”  
“David, I’m asking you to hold your gun like a cop, not like your scared of it going ‘bang’.  
Where in the hell is that technical adviser? He’d explain it to you.”  
The AD explained that Hutch had been injured and would not be in that day. The director turned to Starsky and said; “Please, kid, just do it like I ask.”

“He’s doing it exactly right.” A voice from the back of the studio called out. The director and AD turned round and Starsky squinted to see Huggy standing behind one of the big lights that blinded anyone who looked at them.  
“I’m here to replace my colleague Hutch. My name is Detective Bayer.”  
Starsky tried not to choke.

The director called the shot one more time and Starsky went through the motions again. This time the director was happy and called for a print. Starsky made for his trailer and called to Huggy “Oh Detective Bear; maybe you could give me a bit of advice about the next scene.”  
“The name is Bayer!”  
“Isn’t that what I said?”

Once in the trailer Starsky locked the door. “We don’t want any uninvited guests.”  
Huggy told Starsky what he’d found out about the attack on Hutch. “It was Klinger’s goons. Klinger thinks that Hutch is the cop undercover here; he doesn’t know about you. I also found out how he knows about an undercover cop. Randall.”  
“Randall. That creep’s given up ambulance chasing to work for Klinger huh? Does Dobey know about Randall?”  
“I told Dobey all I know. Now you and I have other business to attend to. Betty’s will deliver tomorrow afternoon. I’ve started putting the word around and everyone should be there by midnight. All you have to do is make sure Hutch is there.”  
“Even if I have to carry him; he’ll be there!”

Someone knocked on the door. It was the AD; Starsky was needed back on set.  
He mugged at Huggy “You want my autograph now or later?”

He did what was needed – it took about five minutes - and walked slowly back to his trailer. He was beginning to understand why so many actors ended up hooked on drugs or booze or both; it was kind of boring! Ok when he was up in front of the camera it was exciting but all the hanging around was a real drag. It reminded him of ‘Nam waiting for hours in some damp clump of undergrowth because there was an alert that the Cong were on their way; and then zilch and back to the tents. He’d really appreciated the movie M*A*S*H because it painted a better picture of what it was like out there than all the hero movies that usually poured out of the studios – didn’t matter which war as far as Starsky was concerned the infantry weren’t referred to as ”grunts” for nothing; they were there to be cannon fodder or to take the hail of bullets from a machine gun or be hacked down with sabers – just as long as the guys with more medals than chest could go on plotting out their war games and stratagems in a warm safe office as far away from the fighting as possible. When he’d tried to explain that to Hutch – good old “peace and love, burn your draft card” Hutch he’d been amazed. Hutch had turned to him and said “Hey come on Starsk at least you came out alive” And yes Virginia, that was all he wrote! Well folks; being in a TV show was about the same – take the shot and wait your turn while some suit in the producer’s office looked at the ratings and decided whether the show lives or dies.   
Huggy was waiting for him; and the direct line ‘phone was ringing again. Starsky looked at Huggy and said “Hey if you can call me on that thing why don’t you answer it?” Huggy lit a cigarette and grinned at him. “Hey big shot, I ain’t your gopha yet!”  
For a split second Starsky considered asking for a drag – but he answered the ‘phone instead.  
It was Hutch; a little groggy but anxious to know how his partner was getting on.  
“You do not want to know; it would burst all your balloons at once! More to the point; how are you?”  
“The doctor says I can get out of here the day after tomorrow. Do you think you can hack it until then?”  
“Sure I can. Tomorrow I’m going to bring a couple of books and the plane I’m working on to keep me occupied – unless of course Mr. Klinger has other ideas. I’ve made a contact that might lead me to pay-dirt.”  
“Be careful Starsk. If he connects you to me you could end up with something dirty in your veins.”  
“Don’t worry about me kiddo, I’m a tough screen cop now, remember?”  
Hutch made a sound that Starsky knew all too well.  
“And fuck you too! Get some beauty sleep Blintzie, the last time I saw you the only role you’d have got was the beast from the deep! ” He hung up.  
“Huggy, I just thought of something important.”  
Huggy looked at him through the smoke; “yea?”  
“How about setting up a piñata for Hutch? Only I wasn’t thinking of filling it with candy!”  
Huggy grinned, “I’ll see what I can do.”  
“Or, we could just decorate the place with very unusual balloons.”  
“No, He did that for your thirtieth, remember?” Starsky thought for a second and laughed – “yep and I put a couple of them to good use later! Let’s do it anyway.”

**************************************************

Hutch was trying his best to be a patient patient, but it wasn’t his style. He felt sore in a few places but he wanted to get out of the hospital PDQ. Dobey was forced to order him to obey the doctor and Huggy went one better. He knew that Hutch was capable of breaking out and so he waited for Hutch to go to the bathroom and then he removed the cop’s shoes and pants from the closet and slipped them in the bag that had earlier contained three girlie magazines and a change of clothes.

Starsky was finding his way around the studio. He learned quickly and soon understood how things were done and knew just how long he would have to wait between takes. Despite what he’d told Hutch, he’d only brought one book. He found it easy to learn the lines – that quick reading memory that his partner envied was put to good work. He was also surprised to discover that after the initial nervousness of his first day, acting came quite easily to him. Maybe Vennall was right – if he could be convincing undercover, then he could act.

Vennall. He hadn’t seen the guy for a couple of days. He decided to go visit the producer in his bungalow.   
Starsky walked over to Vennall’s office. The lights were on and he could hear voices. He stood to the side of the window and listened and what he heard made him draw the Beretta and check its clip. He had a full load; he flicked the safety and stuck the gun into the back of his jeans. He went to the door and knocked.  
Vennall started to say something but a second voice cut him off “Come back later!”  
Starsky knocked again and then opened the door and walked in.  
“Oh I’m sorry, I thought you said to come in.” He feigned innocence and glanced around the room. Vennall was ‘in conference’ with two very heavy looking dudes; heavy, in both senses of the word. Starsky didn’t know it but these were the guys who had put Hutch into the hospital

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Mr. Vennall;“ he said with a smile to the other two men, “I just wanted to be sure that everything is ok for later on.”  
Vennall caught his meaning and said “yes, Dave. Everything will be Ok; I’ve nearly finished with these gentlemen and then you and I can talk about it. Why don’t you pour yourself a drink and go wait in the other office.”  
Starsky went over to the cabinet and took out a heavy cut crystal glass; he took his time choosing a bottle then poured a couple of fingers of alcohol into the glass. “He turned back to the three men “Can I serve anyone else while I’m here?”  
They all shook their heads.  
Starsky put the cap back on the bottle and carefully replaced it on the tray; he turned and raised his glass in a toast and went through the door into the back room.  
He put down the glass and listened.  
The three men were arguing and the subject was the two deaths that had struck the studio. Vennall was arguing in favor of someone else’s life.  
“Tell Klinger he can’t. The kid has only just arrived – he’s not even famous yet.”  
Starsky’s blood ran cold. Vennall was trying to keep him alive.  
“Mr. Klinger wants you to co-operate. If you do then no-one else gets hurt. If not, well then you lose another star of this dead-beat series.”  
“But why him? He’s still a nobody. The episodes we’re shooting now don’t go out for another six weeks; killing him won’t get Klinger anywhere.”  
“Mr. Klinger gives you until tomorrow. If he doesn’t get the answer he wants, Curly gets more than he bargained with Dale for today.”  
Sitting in the back room Starsky took a big gulp out of the glass he was holding and nearly choked. He didn’t usually drink scotch and this nearly took the roof off his mouth. He stifled a cough and sipped again. That went down a bit better. He finished the drink while he waited: he heard the outer door close and Vennall came to find him.  
“Did you hear?”  
Starsky looked at him steadily. “I think you should tell me exactly what’s going on Mr. Vennall.”  
They went back into the main room of the bungalow and Vennall poured himself another drink. He gestured to Starsky’s glass with the bottle, but the detective refused. “I’ve had enough already; I might need to keep a steady hand! Speaking of which…” He reached behind his back and removed the pistol from the back of his jeans. He released the safety and put it back in the holster.  
“OK, now I’m sitting comfortably; why don’t you tell me the whole story?”  
Vennall explained that Klinger wanted to buy into the production company so that he had a legitimate activity to show the IRS. Vennall and his partner did not want to split the already shrinking revenues three ways and Klinger was putting on the pressure. The trouble was if things went on the way they were Vennall and his partner would have little or nothing to split – two ways or three.  
“So Klinger got Billy into a little crack in Florida to try to convince you that he was serious.”  
Vennall nodded.  
“And when you still wouldn’t play he sold Billy a lethal dose.”  
Vennall nodded again.  
“And Carla?”  
Vennall explained that Carla had been a hype for years. In fact she’d use anything she could get; make-up had been having a nightmare time hiding the needle lines on her arms and disguising the damage to her nose. It was possible that she OD’d by accident but…  
“You don’t think so; and neither do I.” Starsky sat back in the chair. “And now Klinger has his eye on me.” He sighed.  
“I guess I’d better arrange to have a chat with the Captain before I do anything else. Lookit; I’m gonna have a really bad headache and have to go home, OK,”  
Vennall nodded.   
“I know what to do; you should see me when I really have a migraine – but then again perhaps not!” Starsky stood up and left the bungalow; as he closed the door he turned back and winked at Vennall “Whatever I do in the next ten minutes; be ready to say you’ll drive me home.”

Vennall let him go and then he too left the bungalow. He went over to the set and watched as Starsky listened to the director and got into position. He stood up and turned towards the camera; raised an arm in front of his face and said in a low voice “Oh my God; those fucking lights!” and fell down in what appeared to be a dead faint.  
Vennall ran to his side. He leaned over Starsky who whispered “Get me out of here.”  
Vennall called out “It’s Ok; he gets migraines like this – I saw it happen in New York. I’ll run him home.” The two of them made a pantomime of getting Starsky to his feet and out of the studio building. Vennall helped Starsky into his Cadillac and drove him out of the gates and to a coffee shop around the corner. Starsky called Huggy to come and get him. Huggy arrived ten minutes later and drove Starsky back to the MGM entrance; he waited while Starsky slipped in while the guard was talking to someone else and a couple of minutes later the Torino appeared at the barrier. The guard raised the barrier and Starsky and Huggy drove off to The Pits. Starsky went straight upstairs to find Dobey waiting for him; and Hutch!  
“Who let you out?”  
“Well that’s a fine way to greet your partner.” Hutch said with mock sadness.  
Dobey cut them short before they could star another one of their routines and drive him nuts.  
“I was at the hospital when Huggy called. Hutch decided to come with me. He grinned.  
Starsky followed Dobey’s gaze. Hutch was wearing a clean change of clothes that Huggy had taken to the hospital the day before; on his feet he had a pair of hospital espadrilles. Starsky stifled a giggle – “Where are your boots, Cowboy?”  
“Ask Huggy!”

They got down to a serious discussion of what had gone down in Vennall’s bungalow.  
Hutch didn’t like what he heard and neither did the Captain. Strangely, Starsky seemed quite calm about it all. He looked from Hutch to Dobey and said. “I think I know how to handle this, but it might be a good idea if the technical adviser was on hand tomorrow.”  
Hutch nodded. Starsky continued “The important thing is that Klinger still doesn’t know who I am. When he hears that Blondie here is back in circulation it should set off a shock wave big enough to wrong foot him.” He turned to Hutch. “Whatever I do tomorrow, don’t be surprised, OK?”  
Dobey said “What do you mean by that?” but Starsky just nodded to his partner sending an unspoken signal that said “trust me buddy, I’ll be trusting you.”

Starsky left and when they’d given him time to leave the bar, Dobey and Hutch followed. Dobey ran Hutch home to his place where he could be sure that Edith would make sure that his man got enough rest.  
Edith Dobey made a fuss of Hutch – but not as much as Rosie did. She just loved it when the two cops came to visit but was disappointed to see that “Uncle Dave” wasn’t there too. Hutch tickled her and sat her on his knee. “Your uncle Dave is too busy being a TV star to come and see you Rosie Posey.”  
“A TV star?” Her eyes got really big.   
“Well,” said Hutch, “he might be a star, but you know what Rosie; I think he’d rather be a cop and come to play with you.”  
Edith announced supper and Hutch was glad to eat something good after hospital food.  
The doorbell rang. Dobey checked at the window to see who could be there at this hour; he grinned. “Looks like the TV star would like some dinner too.”  
He opened the door. Starsky came in quickly “Close it Captain. I think I’m being followed.”  
They went into the living room and Starsky peeked through a slat of the Venetian blind. Sure enough, the tan Pontiac slid around the corner and parked across the road.  
Hutch came into the room.  
“Do you think they know who lives here?” he asked no-one in particular.  
“Dunno. But the important thing is they followed me here. Right?”  
Hutch thought for a second. “What do we do?”  
Starsky looked out of the window again. The tan Pontiac was still in place but he had the distinct feeling that someone was moving near the Torino. He nudged Hutch and the two of them went to the front door. Hutch opened it a crack and pulled back quickly. “One of them is by your car.” Both of them knew that the Torino had one weak spot – a simple Ford door lock; so simple that even a rookie car-thief could break into it. Starsky opened the door again and prepared to go out there. He nodded to Hutch who followed him onto the doorstep, and said loudly “Hey, thanks for the advice.”  
Starsky walked as nonchalantly as he could towards the Torino. Seeing the man-mountain standing beside it he shouted “Hey whaddya think you’re doing to my car.”  
That was Hutch’s cue. He came out of the house with his gun at the ready. The tan Pontiac screeched across the road and the heavy dove into the door that was flung open by the driver. Starsky and Hutch watched as it disappeared around the corner and then walked back to the house.  
“That was close.” Starsky said. “I wonder what he was doing to my car.”  
They exchanged glances and ran back out to the Torino. Starsky started to run his fingers along the edge of the hood. Finger tips under the edge, palms and thumbs stretched free. He couldn’t feel any wires and carefully lifted the hood. They looked carefully at the engine but there was nothing to see there either.  
Starsky put the key in the lock of the driver’s door and turned it carefully. The door opened without any difficulty and he slipped behind the wheel. He leaned over and pulled up the button Hutch’s door; he got in the car beside his partner.  
They proceeded to silently and methodically search and check every nook and cranny in the car’s interior. Starsky lifted his head and nudged Hutch. Just visible behind the Motorola radio was a small lump of plastic explosive. They got out of the car as carefully as possible and ran to the house.  
The explosives squad was there within the half hour and the car was cleared as clean forty minutes later.  
They finally got to eat supper around eleven thirty that evening. Starsky wiped his mouth and announced that he’d better get home and get some sleep. “I have to be up at four-thirty because the trailer’s coming by to collect me at five – we’re on location.”  
Hutch didn’t like the idea of the trailer coming to Starsky’s house. He decided to be there to follow it in case of trouble. Starsky kissed Edith Dobey goodnight and went out to his car. Hutch gave him ten seconds and then slipped out and into his own car that the Captain had arranged to be dropped off earlier. He followed Starsky home and settled down for a short night in his car.

The sound of the RV laboring up the steep hill to Starsky’s house woke Hutch. He sat up in the driver’s seat and watched as his partner came down the outside steps and climbed into the trailer as it drew up in front of the house. The trailer started off and Hutch followed at what he was sure was a discreet distance.  
“Zebra three; come in please.”  
“Jeez Mildred; you’re up early this morning.”  
“I’m on the red-eye shift, Hutch! Patch through from Starsky.”  
“Put him on.”  
“Morning Blondie!”  
“Hi, Starsk. What’s so important?”  
“You’re too close buddy; give us a bit more room.”  
Hutch slowed down and Starsky chuckled. “That’s better; wouldn’t want anyone to think we were close or anything – you never know what the tabloids would make of it!”  
Starsky broke the connection and Hutch let the trailer get a little further away without losing sight of it.  
He followed it to the La Brea Tar Pits. He wondered what on earth his partner might have to do in this place. He waited until the trailer had taken its place amongst the other location vehicles then parked and walked to the Tar Pits. He was greeted by one or two people who took it for granted that he was there to advise on a bit of police procedure.  
Starsky was reading a sheet of paper and having his make-up adjusted. He winked at Hutch and walked to the edge of the Pits. The scene involved a chase round the edge of the Tar Pit and Starsky had to balance precariously at the edge. He stood and wobbled in place – Hutch held his breath. The director called cut and Starsky gave up his place to a guy who, from a distance, looked like him. Hutch watched as the double staggered and fell towards a raft that had been put in position to catch him. He started to climb back up and the director called another cut. Starsky, now covered in fake tar, took his place on the raft and deftly heaved himself back to the sidewalk as if he was coming out of a swimming pool.  
The shot was over and Starsky walked over to where Hutch was standing.  
“Exciting isn’t it? You stop being impressed after the first five minutes!”  
Hutch thought it was all interesting and was about to launch into an appreciation of the finer arts of special effects when Starsky tapped him on the arm. “Over there.”  
Hutch followed his gaze. “Show me how to hold a gun or something.” Starsky said and he and Hutch mimed their way through a bit of technical advice. Starsky said loudly “Thanks.” He went to his trailer.  
Someone came to tell Hutch that he had a ‘phone call. It was Dobey; Hutch was needed back at Headquarters to give his deposition about the two stunt men. He went back to his car; he was reluctant to leave Starsky without protection; but he knew that his partner was capable of looking after himself.

Starsky climbed the step into his trailer. Miss Bright Eyes was waiting for him.  
“Well hello honey. I thought we could score together.”  
She started to dig in her bag but Starsky had a better idea. The lady was impressed.

Back at Headquarters, Hutch went into Dobey’s office. The stenographer was ready and the assistant DA was late. When he arrived Hutch was disgusted to see that it was Ben Sanders probably the worst Assistant DA in the city. Hutch and Starsky had clashed with him twice in the past and Hutch had absolutely no confidence in him whatsoever; period.  
Sanders asked the questions and Hutch gave his answers. It took over an hour because Sanders insisted on going back over the same points over and over again. When Hutch was finally free to go it was early afternoon. He went down to Dispatch and asked the officer on duty to find the black and white closest to La Brea. “Ask him if the film crew is still there.” The black and white reported that they were still there and Hutch was on his way.

They were filming a scene with the double so Hutch headed for the trailer. He entered without knocking and got the surprise of his life. Starsky was sitting cross legged on a low table…putting the expert finishing touches to a joint. He looked up and said “Oh oh; it’s the heat!” and started to giggle. Hutch caught a glimpse of his partner’s eyes – he was definitely stoned.  
“Officer I hope you’re not going to arrest us.” Starsky giggled as he spoke. “Or maybe you’d like a hit too.” He held the joint out towards Hutch. Hutch looked away in disgust. He wondered whether Starsky was in any state to take in what he said but he went ahead. “I’ll be back later, there was something I wanted to discuss with you but it can wait.”  
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s the routine around here.” Starsky took a long toke and inhaled with an expertise that stunned Hutch again. Hutch knew that he was wasting his time and started to leave. Starsky called after him. “I’ll bet The Pits are real exciting in the evenings; I’d like to see that!” Hutch caught the message and shot a look that said “see you later.”

Starsky handed the joint to Miss Bright Eyes and the two of them finished it. Starsky knew that Hutch was going to chew him out for this – but he had a good excuse. Well he thought it was good. The thought of Hutch’s face as he came through the door set him off giggling again.

  
****************************************************************

“He did what?” Huggy nearly fell off the bar stool. Hutch was telling him about Starsky and the joint.  
“He rolled it like an expert, Huggy!” Hutch put his hand to his brow in a gesture of disbelief. “And then he took a long drag and inhaled”

Huggy was still trying to picture Starsky, one of the few cops he would never think capable of going off the rails, smoking a joint like he did it all the time.

The culprit came down the stairs at that same moment.  
He came over to the two of them and looked at Hutch. “Hey there buddies. What’s going on?”  
Hutch looked at him carefully. Starsky’s pupils were still kind of dilated and he spoke with a slight drawl.   
“I guess you could start by explaining what I saw earlier.”  
“Wooooooo. Hey officer no big deal; California law lets me keep a little bit for personal use.” He giggled again.  
“Starsky! You’re a cop and you were…you are stoned! Come on man; what are you playing at.”  
“I’m playing at being a hip young rising _star_ - _sky_...heh heh heh…that’s good! I’m getting close Hutch; don’t worry I won’t try the merchandise when I buy the next deal.”  
Hutch took him by the sleeve and dragged him to the stairs. The two of them went up to the apartment and Hutch slammed the door.  
“Just explain to me why you are stoned, OK!”  
Starsky sat down and smiled. “Calm down. OK, so I spent a little time with Mary Jane. It’s no big deal Hutch.” He grinned, “that’s funny ‘no big deal’.” Hutch was not laughing.  
“Mary Jane? Is that the lady who was with you?”  
“Aw shit you really are the boy from Duluth sometimes! Mary Jane, it’s a way of saying Marijuana!”  
“But Starsk you rolled that joint like you really knew what you were doing…”  
“I did know what I was doing – in fact I was once an expert! How do you think we got through all that crap in ‘Nam? Hutch, we got stoned out of our minds! But as you know I am officially ‘not an addictive profile’ and I dropped it as soon as life got interesting again. Don’t panic, kiddo you aren’t gonna have to bust me! I gave up smoking hash, and tobacco, when I came home from Hawaii!”  
Hutch looked at him out of the corner of his eye.  
“And you don’t have to tell Dobey either!”  
“Just promise me that you won’t use it after this is over.”  
Starsky drew his finger across his chest and crossed those of the other hand behind his back. “Cross my heart. Now let’s get serious. I have a date with Dale tomorrow at four; I don’t know where yet but I’ll get the message to you somehow. You’d better be there just in case.”  
Hutch didn’t want to think what the “in case” might be  
They left The Pits one at a time; neither of them was followed.

***************************************************

It was late morning when Huggy called Hutch to say that Starsky had left him a message.  
“He says to meet him where the sharks live.”  
Hutch thought about it. Why in the hell would Starsky be meeting Dale at the City Aquarium? Then it came to him; not the aquarium but the back lot where they’d made the TV series that ripped off Jaws. He started to drive to Culver City and the MGM studios. He checked in with the guard and drove to the back lot. The Torino was parked alongside the ‘port’ and Starsky was sitting on the hood rolling another joint.  
Hutch parked behind a beached boat and waited. He watched as Starsky carefully sprinkled the grass into the papers and rolled it into a neat thin cylinder. He licked the edge of the paper and ran a finger along it; after inspecting his handiwork he twisted both ends of the paper and fished in his jacket for a matchbook. He lit the joint and settled back against the windshield. Hutch watched as the smoke curled from Starsky’s mouth up to his nose. He continued watching while Starsky smoked half the joint; then he heard a car arriving from the other side of the lot. It was a recent model foreign sport model, Hutch couldn’t tell what make but he thought it might be a TR7. Dale parked alongside the Torino and got out. He looked over at Starsky who slid down off the hood of the car and offered him a toke. Dale took the joint and the two of them passed it from one to the other until Starsky held the remnants of the roach between the tips of his fingers. He took one last drag and then crushed it with his heel. (Hutch noted that Starsky was wearing his suede cowboy boots and knew that tomorrow his partner would be moaning about blisters!) The discussion got more intense and Hutch saw Dale take a sachet out of his pocket and hand it to Starsky. Starsky put his hand into his back pocket and took out his wallet. That was Hutch’s cue. He ran across the wooden bridge that separated him from the ‘deal’ that was going down. He dropped behind the cover of a rowing boat and drew his gun. He had Dale covered just as Starsky flipped open the wallet with his right hand and drew his pistol with the left.  
Dale looked at the badge and then at the gun. For a moment Hutch saw that he was wondering if they were real or not. That split second was all Starsky needed; stoned or not he still knew what to do. He dropped the wallet and grabbed Dale’s sleeve. Dale pushed him away and Hutch watched with horror as Starsky staggered towards the water. Hutch stood up and yelled at Dale to “Hold it right there!” Starsky recovered enough to grab Dale again. He pushed his prisoner forward over the hood of the sports car and Hutch ran up to help him.   
Dale made a break for it and Hutch chased him to the water; Dale ran in and Hutch hesitated before following him. The water was only knee deep and the two of them were soon fighting in the middle of what was supposed to be a New England fishing port. Dale had a few inches and about twenty pounds on Hutch and Starsky knew that his partner still couldn’t really swing his arm efficiently. Although he was stoned he was still capable of rational thought. He went over to the bridge and fumbled around until he found what he was looking for. He mentally thanked Vennall for the guided tour in all its details. He pressed the button. Hutch was aiming another punch at Dale’s gut when he saw it. He stopped and stared. Dale saw his advantage and lunged at the cop; Hutch stepped back and Dale staggered. Hutch was still staring at what was happening behind Dale. He wanted to say something obvious like “look behind you” but he was too stunned by what he was watching. The big mechanical shark rose up behind Dale and came down on top him; pushing him down into the churning water. The shark pulled back and sank beneath the surface. Hutch grabbed Dale by the collar and dragged him to the shore.  
Starsky helped them out of the water and back to the cars.

While they were cuffing Dale, Starsky handed Hutch the sachet. Then he started to push Dale to the Torino. Hutch stopped him. “Are you sure you should do that buddy?” He said gently. Starsky turned two big blue eyes with dilated pupils on him. “I guess you’re right.” He looked at his watch. “Shit! Is that the time? I’m due on set in a half hour! He shoved Dale to Hutch and jumped into the Torino. Hutch watched as the car disappeared in a cloud of dust.  
“Come on Dale. Let’s go talk about all this at headquarters.”

  
********************************************************

The Pits was full of people; Starsky and Huggy had invited everyone they could think of; and there were plenty of people that they hadn’t thought of there too.  
The walls and arches were decorated with condoms blown up like balloons and painted with weird patterns; some of them were filled with water.  
An obscenely shaped piñata hung in the middle of the ceiling. The counter was covered with plates of food and the pool table had been covered with a board and cloth and held a selection of Betty’s finest cheesecakes.

Huggy was making sure that everyone had a glass and that the glass was filled. The juke box had been rigged to play all the selections one after the other. At the moment it was playing “Judy Blue Eyes”

Starsky parked the Torino in front of the main entrance to The Pits. He nudged Hutch and said “wait there.” He got out went round to the passenger door and helped Hutch out of the car. He waved his hand in front of Hutch’s face to test that the blindfold was working; satisfied that it was he guided his partner down the steps and into the bar.  
Someone cut the music. Starsky untied the blindfold and the assembled crowd started to sing Happy Birthday.  
Hutch turned to his partner and smiled. “Thanks Starsk.”  
“Hey not just me; Huggy had a lot to do with it too. Come on let’s get you a drink.”  
A few hours later Hutch was drunk – he was not too sure about what Starsky was! Starsky handed him a police night stick and pointed to the piñata with an evil grin.  
Hutch hesitated. “Go on; it won’t hurt!”  
Hutch aimed the night stick and the huge cock hanging above his head and was rewarded with a shower of condoms and Pills.  
Starsky was doubled up with giggles. He pointed to the juke box and shouted “Cue the music!”  
Huggy pushed a button on the juke box and the place echoed with a recording of Hutch faltering his way through “Loving Arms”. Hutch lifted the night stick and turned to Starsky. His partner grinned and held out a joint. “It’s the last of my stash, I promise. Come on get high for the first and last time in your life.”  
Hutch took the joint and turned to Huggy “Got a light?”  
“Now I’ve seen everything!” Huggy said as he lit the joint.

 


End file.
